Rainfall on Judgment Day
by Xirysa
Summary: FE6/7: Without forgiveness, life is governed by an endless cycle of resentment and retaliation.
1. Chapter 1: present

_This is really, really radical—and I mean really radical—but it was something that I personally felt needed to be written.  
__Ok, so I _wanted_ to write it. Same difference._

* * *

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 1

-x-x-x-

present

-x-x-x-

_Whose hands are these?_ he muses one evening in the privacy of his rooms. _These hands, this body—to whom do they belong?_

He sits at the edge of his bed, a glass of wine held loosely in one hand; the cut crystal of the glass catches the glint of the candlelight, sending the rainbow spinning throughout the room and lighting the deep burgundy liquid with a hidden flame from within.

Fifteen years. Such a short time in the grand scheme of things, it seems—and yet how it could age a man! He smiles, a small curve of his lips, and raises his hand to the candlelight. His flesh glows red from where the light shines through his skin, and he imagines that through the skin he can see the bone and sinew beneath. Would the muscles of his hand still remember the touch of the sword or lance, he wonders, or do they only recognize the delicacy of the quill now? If he were to straddle a horse, would the basic commands of horsemanship come as naturally to him as they had all those years ago?

A quick rapping at the door pulls him from his thoughts; he downs his glass quickly and sets it on the bedside table before answering. "Come in," he says as he pulls his robe about him tighter, the cloth a vivid crimson that does nothing but bring back memories every time he looks at it.

It is Arden, the new Knight Commander of Caelin. The man bows quickly, a clumsy and inelegant thing, and approaches nervously.

"Sir," he says, "it's late, and tomorrow is a festival day. Surely you need your rest!"

He shakes his head and reaches for the bottle again. "You know I was a soldier before I was steward, Arden," he says as he pours himself another glass. "I am used to this. And besides," he takes a sip and looks at the other man over the rim of the glass pointedly before continuing, "I believe your reason for coming to see me personally tonight had nothing to do with my sleeping habits."

"A-ah!" Arden hurries forward and kneels on one knee before him. "Forgive me, sir, but we've just received word from Ostia. They ask for soldiers from all the cantons—they say Bern is coming."

"Bern?" He drains the glass in one long, thoughtful sip. "So it has come to this at last."

Arden—poor, bumbling, inarticulate, lovable, blessed Arden—looks up at him, curiosity etched plainly on his face. "Milord?"

"It is nothing," he says as he sets down his glass. "Most of our elite were already stationed in and around Ostia at the first hint of trouble, but that in itself is not a large amount. Caelin does not have the military strength of the other cantons, even if our knights are famous for their courage and loyalty." He pauses for a moment and thinks, forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose absentmindedly. "We can only send a company to Ostia, perhaps two if we can manage with only a handful of soldiers here. Can I trust this to you, Arden?"

The younger man stands up hastily, his salute almost endearingly awkward. "Of course, milord. Right away."

"Good man. I expect a full report after the evening festivities tomorrow—and be sure to inform the soldiers that they will be heading to Ostia first thing the following morning."

"Yes, Chancellor Sain," Arden says. "I will let them know tomorrow, before the morning festivities."

He smiles. "Thank you, Arden. You may go."

"Milord." Arden bows once more, turns and leaves, and once again Sain is left to ruminate in the solitude.

Arden is a good man, he thinks as he stoppers the bottle and sets it down. A good man who didn't yet know the world. He was a good soldier, yes, but he was young and uncertain; he had the capability to do more if he only believed in himself. His promotion to Knight Commander had not been on a whim; he was more than capable of the position, as had the man before Arden—as Sain himself had been told when he held the position until Reissmann's retirement fifteen years earlier.

Again his mind marvels at the time that has passed. Here he is at forty-four years old: the steward of Caelin, a widower with no heir to call his own. Reissmann himself had never married—though Sain thought it was because of the untimely death of his fiancé over thirty years ago rather than the pressures the stewardship carried with it. In the end, it seemed, even Sain's own marriage was doomed to misery, his wife dead not five years into their marriage from a strange illness after an innocent trip to the seaside.

He stands up and sets about extinguishing the candles set about the room. Perhaps Fiora's fate was meant to be; as a land under Ostian rule, Sain's role as steward forced him to act on Ostia's demands while at the same time caring for the people of Caelin and ensuring that their needs were met. It was either Caelin or his heart—and in the end it was clear which one took precedence. Perhaps, in addition to his own love for Fiora, that was why he had never remarried, though his advisors had pushed him to make alliances with lesser noble houses; it would not be fair to his wife to remain alone in a cold, empty bed late into the night while he attended to paper work and treaties, oversaw the military and settled the disputes and quarrels of the common folk.

The life of a steward truly was a lonely one.

_Because we are sad men,_ he thinks as he blows out one of the candles at his bedside table. Except for the small light of a lucifer atop the desk at the other end of the room and a smaller candle upon the bedside table, the room is thrown into shadow. He watches the strange writhing shapes from the candle's flames on the walls for a moment, and then closes his eyes in exhaustion.

_We are sad, lonely men leading sad, lonely lives._

-x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says: **Like _Gilded_, I'm going to work on this (and it will likely be posted) rather sporadically, mostly to keep myself in the 'fic writing mood while I'm at school.  
Feedback and critique are very welcome indeed—thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2: past

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 2

-x-x-x-

past

-x-x-x-

They came to him one cool night in early autumn, their faces pale and haggard in the flickering candlelight, clenching each others' hands so tightly that the skin had become white; Sain noted how Kent's free hand rested gently at the small of Lady Lyndis' back as he led her into the room, how the fair lady of Caelin seemed to rely on him for support and strength.

Sain stood and bowed to his lady, nodded to his oldest and dearest friend. "Milady Lyndis, Kent,' he said to them, "such an unexpected pleasure at this late hour. May I be of service?"

Lady Lyndis looked at Kent; he nodded, squeezed her hand quickly before turning to close and lock the door to Sain's room; his hands were shaking when he returned.

The air was thick with tension, and Sain found himself swallowing nervously despite himself. "Would you care for a seat, milady? Or a drink, perhaps? I received a beautiful wine the other day, but I'm afraid I haven't had an opportunity to sample it as of yet." He smiled weakly at them in what he hoped was an inviting, casual sort of way.

Lady Lyndis opened her mouth to answer, but it was Kent who spoke instead. "A chair for Lady Lyndis, Sain; the wine she can do without." Kent spoke in the clipped tone he normally used with courtiers and new recruits; he seemed to realize this and looked at Sain apologetically. His voice softened. "Though I could most certainly use a bit, and it seems like you could use a glass yourself to get through all that paperwork." Kent gave him a small smile, though it seemed too strained and forced to contain any real amusement. "Please, Sain."

"But of course," Sain said. He shrugged and pulled his chair from his desk, guiltily noting the mass of papers strewn across the hard oak top, set it before her and motioned for her to sit down.

She looked at Kent briefly, tugged the shawl about her shoulders tighter and sat on the proffered chair. Kent stood behind her, hands clasped behind his back as he silently watched Sain pull a bottle and two glasses from a trunk at the foot of his bed. He looked older than Sain had ever seen him, as if Kent were at least five years his senior instead of a mere two years his junior. Sain gave the younger man a glass of wine and retreated to his desk, where he leaned against an edge not _completely_ littered with documents.

All was silent for a few minutes as the men sipped idly at their drinks. Lady Lyndis fidgeted with a fraying thread on her shawl, an invisible speck of dirt on her skirt. The three of them were comfortable enough with each other to the extent that such silences were not an issue, and yet something about the stillness was disconcerting.

Finally Kent spoke. "There is something you must know, Sain."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sain saw Lady Lyndis close her eyes and hang her head in shame.

-x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says: **Short chapter is short, but I have exams this week and I wanted to put up something. Plus, I'd had this bit written for a while, and there was really nothing else I could put into this chapter without getting ahead of myself. Hopefully you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! Any feedback or critique is, as always, greatly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3: present

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 3

-x-x-x-

present

-x-x-x-

Festival days are always a joyous affair, warm and bright with the smiling faces of the people of Caelin as they laugh and mingle in the common ground in front of the castle. The sight never fails to bring a small smile to Sain's lips, but today he feels that it is pained and worn.

Arden seems to notice; he may have been a bumbling fool for a majority of the time, but he certainly was perceptive when it came to the moods of individuals. "Chancellor?" he asks tentatively, "is something the matter?"

He shakes his head. "I am alright," he says. He walks to the edge of the balcony overlooking the fairground, watches the activities below them with polite interest.

Here merchants and craftsmen hawk their wares to the passersby: curious little baubles that glitter and shine in the sun, skeins of brightly colored wool and bolts of fine cloth. There, a troupe of traveling performers entertained a group of children with magic tricks and small dogs that leapt through flaming hoops. He lets his eyes wander over the festivities briefly once more before allowing his gaze to fall on the crowd growing around the makeshift arena that had been erected there a few days prior. Many of them are men, young and healthy, still in their prime. A few are older, seasoned warriors who still bear their scars proudly and with honor. Fewer still are women, their faces expressionless and carefully guarded as they scoped the competition with cold, calculating eyes; women who bore arms were still a rare thing in a backwater canton such as Caelin, though their numbers in the militia grew steadily each year.

"How many participants are there?" he asks.

"Just over a score and a half, milord," Arden replies. "Shall we begin the tournament?"

Sain nods; a few moments later a horn sounds, its deep voice echoing across the fair ground. When the last of its ringing tones fade into the summer wind he looks at the crowd once more to find every face watching his intently. He says only a few words, but it is enough; the crowd below begins to cheer excitedly in anticipation, and the matches begin.

x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says: **No, I haven't forgotten about this one. I've just been very sporadic with this because of school and other things. Sorry.


	4. Chapter 4: past

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 4

-x-x-x-

past

-x-x-x-

"Truly?" Sain blinked, looked from Kent to Lyndis and back to Kent again. He set his glass down on the desk with more force than he intended, barely regarded the loud _chink_ as it met the wood. "How could this happen?"

"We did not mean for it to, Sain," the younger man said. He lowered his hand until it remained fisted against his side. "Do you think we wanted it?"

"But surely," Sain began, "surely you—the both of you!—realized what could have happened when you…" he let the end of his sentence trail off. "And for the two of you to do such a thing in the first place—unthinkable!"

Lady Lyndis spoke, her voice low and calm despite the pleading look in her eyes. "But it happened, Sain, and now we are paying for it."

Sain simply looked at her. "Lady Lyndis!"

"Please, Sain," Kent said, and Sain was taken aback by the pleading tone in his friend's voice; Kent never pleaded, never begged, never asked for anything even if his own life was at stake, and yet now… "Please. We have no one else to turn to now but you."

"No one but me?" he asked, the words coming out far sharper than he had intended. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What about Wil?" he said softly, turned and looked at Lady Lyndis. "Dame Florina?"

The lady of Caelin shook her head. "They wouldn't understand," she said, Even _her_ eyes pleaded with him, asking him to understand.

His attempt at calming himself down was futile; he crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to quell the anger that was slowly building inside him. "And you expect me to?" Could they not _see_ the seriousness of what they had done?

"Of course!" Kent ran a hand through his hair frantically. "You're always spouting nonsense of following your heart and fighting for love and how in the end true love will conquer all barriers. And I'm sure that you and Dame Fiora—I mean, how could you not? That is all we did, and yet you condemn us for it?"

That was it; Sain felt something within him snap, and for the first time he could remember Sain felt the urge to cause Kent physical harm. Instead he glared at the younger man. "I am courting Dame Fiora with the respect and dignity she deserves—I would never think of touching her before the wedding night, with or without her consent. But you…" He shook his head in disgust, glanced at Lady Lyndis quickly out of the corner of his eye quickly before looking back at Kent. "To justify your actions in such a way is simply disgusting; there's no other word for it."

"You think I do not respect Lyndis?" The color was rising in Kent's face now, ears already bright red as he returned Sain's glare, voice rising in volume as his skin became steadily more and more flushed. "You think that I do not care for her?"

"And so you use your feelings for her as even more evidence that what you did was not wrong, as if she were not a lady of noble birth but the pagan whore Lundgren had said she was?"

Kent clenched his jaw tightly, and Sain could see a vein beginning to pulse visibly in the younger man's temple. "Do not," he said, jaw still closed tightly, "refer to her as such. You know that it's not true."

Lyndis raised a hand weakly, as if the power of the action could stop the two of them from arguing. "Kent," she said softly. "Sain. Please."

He chose to ignore her, chose to continue venting at Kent. "And what you said about Fiora wasn't true, either." He swallowed thickly and looked away. The tension in the room was tangible, and finally Sain spoke again. "Leave," he said. "Now."

"What—" Kent began, and out of the corner of his eye Sain saw Lyndis lay a placating hand on his arm.

Sain closed his eyes as the pair left; the door shut quietly behind them as the mechanism of the lock clicked softly into place.

x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says: **Two chapters, just because I can.  
Apologies to those of you who were following this story intently; writing as of late has become more difficult for me, so if my writing sounds super forced... That's why. It's also why these chapters are so bloody short. With everything going on, all I'm trying to do is get back into the writing mood. That's not to say I don't want feedback or critique; on the contrary, review these chapters as you normally would. That is all.


	5. Chapter 5: present

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 5

-x-x-x-

present

-x-x-x-

The first pair in the arena are a pair of castle knights, two young men who walk with a gentle confidence and hold their weapons with a comfortable ease in such a way that it sends a pang of nostalgia through him. They stand at opposite ends of the arena, and at Arden's signal, the match begins.

Sain watches the pair exchange blows with each other as his mind wanders to a time over twenty years in the past, a sparring match in the early morning air, the breeze cool against warm skin, the easy camaraderie of young men who had grown and fought together. Tears prickle the back of his eyes; he blinks them away quickly as the match ends, and the tournament continues.

The matches continue, the participants ranging from a few Caelin knights to mercenaries and village lads and even a few women as well, wielding their weapons as well as any man. From his vantage point on the balcony above the makeshift arena he watches them, smiling quietly to himself as he fondly recognizes the emotions written plainly on the faces of the less experienced fighters: uncertainty, fear, and the small spark of unyielding determination.

One of the participants in particular catches his attention—a young woman wearing the loose robes of the Sacaean swordsmen, a long, curved sword forged in the eastern style at her side. She gazes at her competition emotionlessly; when she enters the arena for her own match she is silent, watching Arden until the signal is given.

And then, she strikes.

Her movements are fast and precise, and her opponent—a slender man who carries his lance deftly, if not perhaps a bit hesitantly—is caught off-guard. He backpedals clumsily out of reach, but catches himself quickly and lunges toward the girl, lance poised to jab quickly, like the sharp bite of a serpent hidden in the grass.

It is over moments later, the man's lance held directly above the hollow of the young woman's throat. She closes her eyes. She murmurs something to her opponent, and he offers her his hand to help her up. Taking his hand, she stands up and is escorted from the arena, taking her place on the sidelines as the next pair prepare themselves.

For the remainder of the tournament, Sain finds his attention torn between the matches and the young swordswoman waiting at the edge of the arena. The look in her dark eyes is proud and defiant, and yet her posture is taut and serious, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. The familiarity of her stance is heartwrenching, and yet he does not know why.

_Who are you, lass?_ Sain wants to ask. _When did we last meet?_

But he says nothing, and so the tournament continues.

x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says: **Have something serious after all the Crackwood. Roflmao.  
Seriously, though. I think I'm really liking these shorter chapters. Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome. C:


	6. Chapter 6: past

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 6

-x-x-x-

past

-x-x-x-

"Lady Lyndis and Sir Kent are nowhere to be found."

The news did not surprise Sain when Wil came into his tiny room the next morning, red-faced and panting for breath, bow slung sloppily over one shoulder. "And?" he asked coolly, leafing slowly through the paperwork he had left on his desk the night before.

Wil blinked. "What should we do?" he asked. "Shouldn't we go look for them?"

Sain scoffed. "Why?" He pulled a quill pen and inkpot from a compartment of his desk. "They don't want to be found."

The archer watched him curiously. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Did something happen?"

He said nothing, and with a murmured apology the younger man left, closing the door quietly behind him.

-x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says:** Short, I know. But whatever—the next chapter is longer, I promise. Well, sort of. Feedback is appreciated; thanks very much for reading!


	7. Chapter 7: present

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 7

-x-x-x-

present

-x-x-x-

The first round is completed, and as the sun begins to climb higher in the sky, the participants leave the arena to take shelter among the carts and stalls covering the fairground, eating and drinking away the time until the tournament resumes once more. Sain watches with a smile as the victors of the first round clap each other heartily on the back and shoulders for a job well done, yet every so often he finds his gaze drawn toward the young Sacaean girl.

He is pleased to see that she is among those who did not manage to advance to the next round congratulating the victors on a job well done before disappearing into the colorful array across the fairground. Something, he notices, about her actions is achingly familiar—in the way she nods curtly to the other participants, a barely indecipherable bob of her head, and how one hand always rests on the hilt of her sword, ready to unsheathe it at a moment's notice.

_It cannot be_, Sain thinks as he watches her make her way among the cacophony of noise and color, her dark hair stark against fairer coloration of the Lycians, both of Caelin and other cantons, making merry at the festival; she stops only once, to purchase a sweet roll of some sort from one of the stalls, before disappearing behind it. _It cannot be, and yet…_

"Milord?" Arden's voice, though not unpleasant, is suddenly a grating sound in his ears; it is a distraction, pulling his mind away from the strange girl and the familiar aura surrounding her. "Would you care for your meal now?"

Sain shakes his head. "I am not hungry," he says, "but thank you for your concern." He smiles at the young commander. "What about yourself? You haven't eaten all day."

"I am—" Arden begins, but a growl from his stomach stops his words. The man fights admirably to fight down the blush forming on his cheeks, and Sain cannot help but chuckle a bit.

"Go," he says gently. "Take a break. I will be fine."

Arden shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Chancellor," he says, "but it is my duty to ensure your well-being."

_Duty._ "Very well." Sain stands up, and Arden takes a step back respectfully. "I will see you shortly—go ahead and see that everything is in order. The participants fought well; they deserve their reprieve."

"Of course, sir." With a bow Arden leaves, and Sain turns to follow shortly after. He glances over his shoulder briefly before passing through the arching doors leading from the balcony into Castle Caelin, and for a moment wonders if he has imagined the low rumble of thunder in the warm summer air.

-x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says:** Alright, so this chapter wasn't much longer, sorry. Many thanks to **Asherien** and **Improvisation** for putting up with my constant questions and requests and opinions on everything, and a slew of people over on LJ for awesome character discussions that put me back in the writing mood. (Even though can tell I struggled with this a lot.) Thanks for reading—feedback is appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8: past

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 8

-x-x-x-

past

-x-x-x-

Word spread quickly of their disappearance, and so Sain was not surprised when he found himself seated before Chancellor Reissman's heavy oak desk later that day.

"You know something," the steward stated.

Sain shrugged. "I don't know any more than you, sir."

The steward watched him closely and said nothing for a few moments. Then he sighed, and Sain was suddenly aware of how much the older man seemed to have aged since Lord Hausen's death half a year before. "With Sir Kent no longer in the vicinity of the castle, the duty of commanding the Caelin knights now falls to you. Do you understand?"

Sain rose from the chair and bowed to the steward. "Of course, sir."

"Very good," Reissman said, "C_ommander_."

The word hung heavily in the air between them, and Sain bowed once more. "I am honored. Thank you."

Chancellor Reissman said nothing, and only watched Sain for a few moments more before closing his eyes tiredly. "You may go now," he said.

Sain nodded and stepped away from the desk, and as he left the steward's office he wondered if he had only imagined the sorrow in the older man's eyes.

-x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says:** Naturally, another short chapter. Sain was once again surprisingly difficult to write again (I much prefer his older incarnation at this point lol) but ah well. Feedback is appreciated!

Thanks to **Asherien** for being my badass beta and soulmate of awesome. C:


	9. Chapter 9: present

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 9

-x-x-x-

present

-x-x-x-

The servants have laid out his meal in a secluded area of the castle gardens, away from the hustle and bustle of the festiva; although he has told Arden otherwise, Sain's stomach still growls in protest as he makes his way off the main path of the garden and down a smaller one, slipping away from the castle and into the cheerful chaos of the fairgrounds.

He keeps to the shadows of the bright tarps and canvases of the carts and tents dotting the open space, lest he be seen and recognized by the citizenry. Why he has left the calm and safety of the castle, he doesn't know, but _something_ nonetheless spurs him on across the fairground.

Despite keeping to the relative cool of the shadow, Sain can feel the midday heat gradually sapping at his strength, and when the great horn sounds once more to signal the second portion of the tournament, he stops his search—_but for what?_ he wonders, even though a part of him already knows the answer.

Wearily, he turns and makes his way back toward the castle.

-x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says:** I'm back, I'm back! I swear, I didn't forget about this at all! So, after such a long hiatus, have not one, not two, but _three_ new chapters. (Though each chapter is, like, crazy short, so it's not like it matters anyway lol.) So for the first of these, have... absolutely no dialog whatsoever. Lol.

Like always, feedback is appreciated!


	10. Chapter 10: past

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 10

-x-x-x-

past

-x-x-x-

"I heard about your promotion," Wil told him later that day. "Congratulations!"

Sain nodded. "Thank you, Wil."

"Of course!" Wil grinned at him, but the normally easy smile seemed awkward and strained.

"Ah—I'm sorry about earlier, Wil," Sain said. "I didn't mean to be rude; I just had… a lot on my mind."

The younger man shrugged. "It's fine." He swallowed. "Actually, Sain—er, Commander—there's something I wanted to tell you. I… well, I already talked to, um, well, Lady Lyn and Kent about it, and they said it was fine, but I figured that you should know, too, especially now since you're commander and all…"

Sain closed his eyes tiredly and turned to face the other man. "What is it, Wil?" he asked softly, not wanting to snap at him twice in one day. "I've had a long day—I'm sorry, but I'm in no mood for guessing games."

Wil just grinned at him apologetically.

-x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says:** I think, because of the small size of these chapters, getting the characterization and the emotion across was really difficult; Wil was really fun to write in this, but Sain was rather difficult by comparison. Oh well.

Feedback is very much appreciated! Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11: present

-x-x-x-

Rainfall on Judgment Day

Chapter 11

-x-x-x-

present

-x-x-x-

"Chancellor!" Arden's face shines through a thin sheen of sweat in the noonday sun, and Sain suspects that it is not solely from the heat. "Milord, where have you been?"

Sain smiled. "My apologies, Arden," he says. "I am sorry for causing you unnecessary worry. I was… otherwise preoccupied."

Arden looks at him, the confusion plain on his face. "Sir?"

"Don't worry yourself about this," Sain tells him. He turns to the page standing at attention near the balcony door. "Come here, lad."

The boy approaches and bows low. "Yes, milord?" He has a slight lisp, and Sain smiles.

"Go to the kitchens and bring some chilled wine and two goblets," he says. Sain looks at Arden. "You look as if you could use a glass."

The page bows again and scurries away; Arden, too, bows. "Thank you, Chancellor," he says as the horn sounds once more.

"It's the least I can do for troubling you like this," Sain replies as he takes his seat. "Now, relax—the matches are about to resume."

-x-x-x-

* * *

**Xirysa Says:** Aaaand... that brings us to the end of this particular bout of updating. I guess I was more out of touch with writing Sain than I thought, but hopefully I kept him consistent enough with the earlier chapters. There's also really no plot movement of any kind, but, well. I suppose there's more... Emotional development? Well, that's as good a word as any for what I have in mind, so let's just leave it at that.

Thank you for reading! Feedback and critiques are appreciated, as always.


End file.
